Friday I met a friend for breakfast that I haven’t seen in awhile. We keep in touch on the phone since she lives in Florida, but when we get together, it’s as though we saw each other yesterday. Seeing her was the boost I needed, since she is the eternal optimist.
She listened with compassion as I told her how hard it was to be living between two worlds and how I am so ready to move on. I have an apartment but have not actually moved in there completely, because my boys are still home from college, but that is about to end very soon.
My friend just smiled and said, “You’re so close! This will all be over before you know it and your life is going to be amazing!” My family and other friends have expressed the same joy for me, but I just gave a hmph. “And don’t even think about being lonely! You’re going to meet someone immediately.” She gushed. I just listened, trying to get excited by her excitement, but honestly, I felt numb.
How happy can I possibly be, when I am selling the beautiful home I created every inch of, to go to an apartment? Sure, the move is temporary and only providing my youngest and I with an immediate place to go while I figure out where we want to live, but it’s not logical when I have two other children who want a place to call home again.
My friend told me not to think about that, but to only think about what I have to be happy about. She said, “You get to climb out from under the buss you were thrown under a million times and you can’t be blamed anymore for all the things that go wrong in your husband’s life.” She was right, but the injustice of it all takes a little longer to accept.
I understand privacy and the sanctity of marriage, which is why I don’t feel the need to meet people for drinks who only want to hear a story and then gossip. But in spite of my attempt to remain integral through all of this, by not speaking to anyone who lives where I do, a story is being told none the less. I am sure there is no mention in that story though about how all three of my boys have legally changed their last name. And that disturbing fact should be sufficient enough information for anyone with half a mind, to understand why my marriage has ended.
I know that I learned many lessons over the past 22 years and while I know the song says, “Thank you, next” I don’t think we need to thank anyone for the lessons they taught us.
But what we do need to do, is learn from those lessons so that we never have to repeat them again. Once we do this, we can welcome what is “Next” with open arms, because it will now flow effortlessly to us.